


And Still I Turn to You

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Elementary (TV), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Double Drabble, Drabble Sequence, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: With her world turned upside down by the events of her ex's recent alien disaster, Anne Weying turns to someone she knows will bring her comfort.





	And Still I Turn to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/gifts).

Rain was pouring from a blackened sky when Joan Watson got to the door of 42 Stanford Avenue. She was dry by the grace of a sturdy umbrella alone, elbows tucked tight to her body to stay under its protection. The air was unseasonably chilled from a passing storm front, and her hands trembled a bit as she fumbled with her keys to unlock the door.

“Joan?” That voice would have brought her pause in the worst of situations. It had been years, but she’d know Anne anywhere. She turned to find a ghost from the past staring up at her from the sidewalk. “Can I come in?”

The cultivated habit for observation kicked in immediately, taking note of the rain-soaked clothes and bedraggled hair. There were dark circles beneath her eyes. A larger than average handbag was slung over her shoulder, and there was the tiniest smudge of missed icing at the corner of her lips. There had been rushed travel—probably a red eye flight. Some sort of upset had preceded it. It must have been serious for Anne to come to New York. Joan turned back, fitting her key in the lock with suddenly steady hands.

“Of course.”

_ ~*~*~*~ When those darkened skies open wide ~*~*~*~ _

The Brownstone wasn’t what she’d expected as Joan’s place of residence. It wasn’t the shabbiest place she’d ever seen—not by a long shot after being with Eddie for so long—but it definitely wasn’t up to the standards of modern comfort she’d long associated with the other woman. Still, it was warm and homey, and the selection of tea Joan offered for her perusal was exactly as expansive as in her memories of an apartment in Queens from so long ago it felt like another life.

“So, what happened that was so bad you hopped a plane to New York?”

Anne knew she’d come to talk, but it still surprised her how easily the whole sordid ordeal came tumbling from her mouth. Joan listened to the whole thing with an unshakable calm that soothed every frayed nerve that Anne had. Even with parasitic aliens and evil corporations as the topic of discussion the former surgeon did little more than lift her eyebrows. Anne had forgotten how comforting that could be. When she wrapped the whole tale up, shivering in spite of the blanket tucked around her, they sat in silence for a long moment.

Finally, Joan spoke. “We’re gonna need pizza.”

_ ~*~*~*~ And bitter rains do fall ~*~*~*~ _

They sat cross-legged on opposite corners of Joan’s bed. A half-eaten box of veggie laden thin crust lay open between them, gooey cheese sliding off the edges of some of the slices to pool on the cardboard below. Joan asked questions as they ate, mostly normal things about life in San Francisco—an attempt to restore a little normalcy to their visit given the outrageous circumstances. It was only kind of working, but the attempt was greatly appreciated.

“How’s this doctor that you’re seeing?” Joan asked.

“He’s wonderful.”

“He isn’t enough.”

Anne winced. “Am I that obvious?”

“You don’t sound the same way you did when you were happy with Eddie,” Joan explained with half a shrug. “It’s okay to want to be comfortable. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

There was a ghost of a smile on Anne’s face. “At first I think I wanted the stability,” she confessed. “Dan really is wonderful. He’s caring and compassionate. He puts up with way more than anyone should be asked to from their partner’s ex. He didn’t even freak out at the alien nonsense. He’s just…” She didn’t need to look at Joan to know they’d speak the next words together. “Not enough.”

_ ~*~*~*~ I loose the thoughts sealed up inside ~*~*~*~ _

Anne lay on her side, knees drawn up, and one hand tucked under a pillow. Across a short expanse of quilt Joan lay facing her. They stared at one another in the dim light of the one bedside they’d left on, the silence between them comfortable but heavy with unspoken meaning. It brought back memories, the gentle fog of  _ now _ bringing forth a rush of scenes from  _ then _ . They were inseparable once. Happy once. Together. Like so many things from youth it hadn’t lasted, but they’d both been so determined to not let it destroy them completely.

College was a long time ago. They’d both had incredible lives since then. They had careers and there had been so many lovers. Yet, with crisis in recent memory, they found themselves right there together all over again. When the world went to hell, Anne thought of Joan. Slowly so that her intentions couldn’t be misconstrued, she stretched her hand across the blanket and threaded their fingers together. Joan smiled—a soft, familiar thing—and scooted closer until their knees were touching. It was too late and emotions were too high, but the comfort of  _ possibility _ was more than enough to lull them to sleep.

_ ~*~*~*~ And pray you’ll hear my call ~*~*~*~ _

It wasn’t like Watson to leave the kitchen light on, and finding it so when he came in so late that it was almost morning immediately put Sherlock on edge. Upon further investigation he found that although the rain in the foyer had been cleaned up the faint outline of a number of footprints remained, leading him to the conclusion that his erstwhile apprentice had not been alone when she entered. He crept up the stairs to her bedroom with the light feet of a man intimately familiar with his surroundings. The door was not completely shut, and it swung inward with the slightest push. 

After a brief moment of observation he gave a short huff of a laugh and stepped into the room. He was gentle as he drew a blanket over the two women entwined atop Watson’s bed, smirking at their linked fingers. The lamp clicked off beneath his fingers. He had suspected, of course, that there might be more to the consistent e-mails traveling between his protege and the attorney in San Francisco, but this was more than he’d expected. They looked… peaceful in a way he envied.

Perhaps, just this once, he would neglect to pry.


End file.
